


On the Rage of Death

by Lonely_Lovely_Hobbit



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-26
Updated: 2015-03-26
Packaged: 2018-03-15 18:17:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3457073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lonely_Lovely_Hobbit/pseuds/Lonely_Lovely_Hobbit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set in an apostolic-like version of the Shire, once again wolves ravage the land and close in around the towns. During one day of guarding the edge of the camp, they are attacked and life changes a lot for Merry and Pippin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On the Rage of Death

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, for this one so far is a one-shot but if you want it to be a full story just say so down in the comments. just a warning it's very sad (or the first chapter, depending on what you guys out there want) but i suggest tissues if you are the sensitive type.

The day had started off like any other. The hobbits got up, they ate their breakfast rations of a slice of bread and butter and then went to their stations. They all had different jobs. Some were doctors, builders, teachers, keepers, and guards. The builders built make shift houses that could be taken apart easily when needed, the teachers taught and watch over the children as their parents work. Keepers were in charge of keeping stalk of the few animals they had left, and the food and drink. Guards, above all, were most important though. They maintained order within the town, and watched over the borders. They protected, as that was their job. 

Ah, the borders. Perhaps the most dangerous place in all the towns, as all considered. The young and elderly were not permitted anywhere near the borders of each town. It was far to dangerous for anyone, but the brave guards continued to walk along them, watching carefully for any abnormal activities. Wolves had come once again, along with the ancient mighty warriors of old. The once green fields of the Shire had turned brown and the grass crunched as one would walk. The skies were grey and were almost always filled with clouds. The sun would come out once in awhile and remind them of the good times when the Shire was a happy haven for anyone. War had come and gone, and the survivors and the remaining Hobbits simply survived. Their numbers had thinned quickly but the neighboring peoples of Bree had helped them along as much as setting up camps. Little did the men and women who had returned to their lives in Bree know of the wolves. 

Oh the wolves... They were giant, standing at around six feet tall, weighing dead at around 800 or so pounds. Their fur was pitch black, and the few rare ones were grey as storm clouds. They were vicious, and stayed around the towns. Every now and then, they would attack and all hell would break lose. 

Pippin was standing at the stock bunker doors, guarding of course. Merry was at his side, like he always was. His presence was caring and protective. He was just a bit older, but nonetheless he was his greatest friend. They were taller and more muscular than they had been when the ring was destroyed. Had Frodo and Sam stayed in the Shire, their spirits would had been a little higher. Yet, just a few years after the Battle for the Ring, Frodo had set off with Sam to live in Rivendell. No one had heard from out of the borders since. It was lonely, and life was harsh, but they pulled through. Maybe it'd be over soon, maybe not. There was no way a knowing.

The bell started them, ringing loudly against the silence. It was the danger bell, meaning wolves were approaching to close. Merry and Pippin jumped into action, Pippin grabbing his bow and Merry grabbing his sword. They both ran towards the gate, hurrying to save the town. By that time, a few wolves had tumbled through into the camp. Screams from the children and their mothers rang throughout the camp. Pippin quickly pulled back an arrow and released it, the arrow fitting perfectly in between the the shoulder blades of on of the wolves, who's back was facing him. The wolf growled in pain loudly, and swung around and charged towards him. Pippin quickly shot another arrow, which went through the mouth, sticking the back of it's throat. Its eyes dulled, and it collapsed, blood gurgling from its mouth. Merry jumped onto the back of another, shoving his sword through the spine. The wolf screamed and thrashed about wildly before grabbing his leg and throwing him off. Pippin froze at the sound of Merry's terrified, pain rich scream. Pippin looked over to see the wolf's jaws still clamped down onto Merry's leg, while he tried to reach for his sword.

"MERRY!" He shouted & shot an arrow through the skull of the wolf even though it didn't help. Pippin sped over, running as fast as he could. He dropped to his knees beside his leg, trying to pry open the dead wolf's mouth. Eventually, the blood made his leg slipped through the teeth. Merry groaned, the deep, long gashes burrowed down to the broken bone. Pippin took off the jacket, wrapping most of his leg to try to stop the blood flow. Once again he picked up his bow and defending him with his life until dusk. 

 

Butterbur put another hot rag on Merry's leg. He had been the barman at The Prancing Pony, but had been called to doctorate services when the wolves returned. The land of the Shire and Bree merged, but even after so many people united into one place, only a few hundred were left. Merry's leg didn't seem to be able to heal, and infection from the wolf's teeth was spreading but he wasn't entirely sure about his fate. During those times Pippin almost never left his side, nearly passing out sometimes from not eating. He had quit being a guard, for another job. He was Merry's caregiver and wasn't going to leave him. Yet, as weeks passed and sickness took over the still young Brandybuck, it was soon clear it was the other way around. Merry was leaving him, but slower than most would. Merry was strong, and tried to fight for his life. Soon, it was clear he was losing. Young Meriadoc was dying. It wasn't in a peaceful way, but a crying-in-your-sleep-at-nights type of pain.

"Merry? You awake?" Pippin asked quietly, since Merry had become more sensitive to loud noises. He stirred a little, but overall looked over at him. A small smile appeared on his face.

"Yes, Pip." 

"Did you have a good dream?" Pippin asked. Merry nodded and replied.

"Yes but not in your sense." To this he became confused, but Merry continued.

"I met dear Boromir again... He hasn't changed. " Merry chuckled. Pippin's face grew serious. He knew the day would soon come but...not now he thought. The color drained from the sweet hobbit's face faster now than it ever had. Pippin quickly, but softly grabbed his hand, trying to help him hold on to life.

"Merry? M-Merry? D-Don't go... Not now. Pl-Ple-Please?" Pip begged. Merry simply smiled.

"I love you Pip. More than anyone ever could." His voice turned into a soft, sweet whisper, and soon, died out. His once bright blue eyes closed, and he knew no more. Pippin kissed his hand gently and laid his forehead to his fingers, sobbing intensely. His love was gone and it was his fault. Even after all his care and love, it couldn't save Merry.

 

Pippin sat on his knees, staring at the new pile of dirt in front of him. He didn't fight back the tears that rolled down his cheeks. Merry was gone and he was alone. He dug his fingernails into the palm of his hand. It had been two weeks since Merry left, but it still seemed as if it was just a few minutes before. His chest ached and felt like he was being pulled down. Adrenalin pumped through his veins as he slowly rose and silently vowed to avenge him. Even if that meant killing every last one of the wolves and orcs. He would bring him back somehow.


End file.
